


Halfway to Anywhere

by vailkagami



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:13:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vailkagami/pseuds/vailkagami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not every day in space is filled with action and adventure. Kirk is bored and horny, McCoy is too busy to be sympathetic and Spock is okay with everything as long as his reputation doesn’t suffer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halfway to Anywhere

**Author's Note:**

> I'm importing some of my older works to AO3, and this is one of them. It's not betaed except by some lovely people on LJ who kindly pointed out some of my mistakes.

“There are bets going on.” McCoy didn’t waste his breath for a greeting, but then, he rarely did. “Did you know?”

Kirk looked up from his sandwich. “There are always bets going on. You need to be more specific if you want us to answer that question correctly and in the right context.” He took another bite. The chicken sandwich had been almost cold by the time it got delivered to his quarters, and by now the ‘almost’ had also waved goodbye. On the seat opposite to him, his CMO grimaced.

“Do you even notice how much you sound like Spock, Jim? One of him is enough, thank you very much.”

“Must be the bond,” Kirk said with his mouth full. McCoy snorted.

“Well, as long as your etiquette is underdeveloped like that, I guess there’s not risk of his personality swallowing yours like that cold sandwich.”

“I assure you, such a risk never existed at any point,” Spock quipped in, sounding slightly insulted.

“How do you know the sandwich is cold?” asked Kirk.

“It always is. Since I came aboard this ship, you have complained five hundred times about Starfleet being marvellous and technologically advanced and not sparing a single credit for keeping the food warm.”

“Exactly two hundred seventy-six times, only counting the occasions on which I was present to witness the complaint.”

“Thank you, Spock, for this fascinating if completely unnecessary bit of information. Anyway, I expect that should the miracle of a warm sandwich occur while I’m still serving on your ship, you’re going to greet me with a kiss and a dance down the corridor. Also, the sandwich I had delivered to my office earlier was cold, and if I had found out that you got a warm one, I would have been forced to kill you in a violent fit of envy. And… Jim, do you by any chance happen to call that ‘lunch’?”

Kirk looked down on his plate, but the transfer of food from his plate to his stomach was already one hundred percent completed. “What did you call the sandwich you had in your office?”

“I called it a sandwich, Jim. Do I really have to lecture you about the importance of proper nourishment in a stressful job like yours? Again?”

“I fail to see the point of such a conversation, as evidently neither of you is able to listen to this advice,” Spock voiced his opinion.

“Didn’t you say something about a bet?” Kirk hurried to say, before the two of them could gang up on him. “What was it about?”

“Oh, right. Well, it’s got to do with you, Jim.”

“Half of the bets and rumours going on on this ship have to do with me.”

“And half of them are true. Well, I assume you’ll be happy to learn that you are one again the centre of attention.”

“He is.”

Kirk glared at Spock. “Get to the point, Bones. Who am I having an affair with this time?”

“No one. The crew does, however, take bets on who you will eventually end up with, and when. Spock or me.”

“Oh.” Kirk reached for his coffee and found the cup gone. After a brief survey of the room he re-discovered it in McCoy’s hands. “That obvious, is it?”

“On the contrary, Jim,” Spock said. “As you will notice, the formulation of the bet, as well as the fact that it exists at all, does indicate that the actual existence of our relationship still remains undiscovered by the rest of the crew. And as for its nature…”

“There should be a rule against betting on the private lives of your commanding officers,” Kirk growled, not letting him finish.

“There is, Jim. That’s why you haven’t heard of it yet.” McCoy took a sip from the coffee and made a sound of disgust. “This is cold! I don’t believe it! Millennia of technological advancement and Starfleet still hasn’t got its priorities in order.”

Over the bond he shared with Spock, Kirk sensed the Vulcan’s irritation, mingled with amusement and affection; a peculiar mix of feelings only Bones ever invoked.

“Well, fortunately we have you to inform us about everything interesting that comes up,” he observed. McCoy snorted.

“You bet? You don’t hear half of it.” Which was probably true. The crew had its own layer of communication, somewhere below the level of the attention of their commanding officers and department heads. There was an unspoken agreement in all Federation vessels that the people of higher rank would not try to listen in on private conversation that involved a lot of laughter and fell silent when they entered the room, as long as the crew kept its part of the deal and didn’t kill them to take over the ship. For generations it had worked.

That McCoy, despite being a ranking officer and a department head, still got to hear most of them had to do with his working place. Everything eventually ended up in sickbay. Is was as inevitable as the rising of Spock’s eyebrows right this moment, as he and Kirk exchanged a glance.

Asking for further information about the rumours they did not get to hear would have been useless, however. The one reason why McCoy learned about them in the end was the fact that he did not always share his knowledge with his captain and first officer.

“What are the odds?” Kirk asked.

“What do you care? As you are in control of the outcome, you‘re not allowed to participate anyway. Although I was wondering if I should take my chances. You wouldn’t mind declaring your undying love for each other on next shore leave, would you?”

“Leonard, as you are well aware, we have already ‘declared our undying love for each other’ quite often in the past, and there is a probability of ninety-one percent for us to do so again before next shore leave.”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “In public, Spock. Otherwise there is no point.”

“Except for informing the other of our undying love for them, you mean?” Kirk didn’t bother suppressing a smile.

“Such an action would be highly unwise in regard to our future careers, not to mention our chances of continued serving together,” Spock pointed out helpfully. This time even Kirk rolled his eyes.

Are you actually doing that on purpose? he asked over the bond, because bond or no bond, sometimes he simply couldn’t tell.

Spock blinked innocently at him in response.

If Bones took notice of their wordless exchange, he chose to ignore it. “Maybe,” he admitted with a gleam in his eyes. “But I would get some money out of it.”

“May I ask, Leonard, why you would put your money on me?” Spock wanted to know. “To my knowledge of the rumours circling amongst the crew, more people enjoy speculations concerning an intimate relationship between Jim and me than think he might be involved with you. Surely your financial gain would be greater if you put your money on yourself.”

“Sure, but it’s not worth the trouble.” McCoy graciously waved the comment away. “Because of the career damage and all that. Besides, once you came out, all attention will be on you and they’ll leave me in peace.”

“I admit, there is a certain logic to your argumentation. Even if semantically it lacks grace.”

Kirk snorted. “Excuse me, did I miss something? Bones proposes to ruin our lives and you call him logical? I think I need a drink on that. Or two.” He’d been planning on a drink anyway, and this offered a good excuse.

McCoy raised his eyebrows. “Are you off shift?”

“Yes, Bones. As are you. We both had the alpha shift, remember?”

“Right.” The doctor rubbed his eyes. His shoulders slumped, and suddenly he looked a lot less energetic. “You have no idea what a day I’ve been having.”

“Enlighten us.”

“Read the report from sickbay.”

“I’m off duty. And so is Spock.”

“There’s a disease spreading through the ship.” Seeing Kirk’s eyes go wide, McCoy hurried to add, “Nothing dangerous, mind you. It seems to be little more than an itchy irritation of the skin, but we haven’t seen this one before, and need to figure out what to do with it, not to mention how it spreads.”

“How many are infected?”

“Twenty seven, so far. M’Benga and I are quite optimistic that we’ll have a vaccine ready by morning. But until then try not to kiss anyone who scratches themselves a lot.” The sigh he let out sounded a lot like a groan. “I swear, if this turns out to be a VD, I’m going to kick every single infected out of the airlock.”

“When did it start?”

“According to the first ensign who showed up with it about two days ago. Just after we returned from Amazonia.”

The look Kirk and McCoy exchanged as they recalled that particular mission didn’t need a mental bond to translate into words. It probably was a VD.

“The correct name of that planet is Alnilam Seven,” Spock felt the need to remind them. Both Kirk and McCoy ignored him.

“I’m off to take a shower,” the doctor proclaimed and disappeared in the bathroom that connected the captain’s quarters with those of his first officer since a somewhat explosive gaseous creature had wrecked his old ones. It had been a convenient excuse to ‘move in with Spock’, as McCoy called it. Finding an explanation for Bones to spend his nights at their place had been a little more difficult, but eventually a shape shifting gelatinous blob from a world close to the Great Barrier had set his bed on fire (for reasons neither Kirk nor Spock had ever been able to find out and Bones was reluctant to talk about), and his friends had graciously offered him a place to sleep.

Officially he was sleeping on a mattress on the floor, or alone in Kirk’s bed if the captain was away. The latter was true too often for Kirk’s liking, as their shifts didn’t always run at the same time.

The best thing about living here, Bones couldn’t tell them often enough, was the fact that their shower was offering real, wet water as an alternative to the sonic version. And since Spock never used it anyway, no one could complain that between the three of them they were wasting too much water.

Usually, McCoy took his time with this luxury he had to go without for so long. But this time he emerged after little more than five minutes, dressed once again in his uniform.

“Anything wrong with your normal clothes?” Kirk asked, raising an eyebrow at him in question. True, he was still in his uniform himself, but then he didn’t have a reason to take it off so far, and preferred it over civilian clothes anyway, because no one could tell when the next emergency would call him back to the bridge. McCoy, on the other hand, liked to relax in his own trousers, claiming that the uniform never quite sat comfortably.

Spock was in his meditation robes, drinking tea. It was steaming hot, even ten minutes after emerging from the replicator, which was just plain unfair, and indicated that the Vulcan and the replicators were somehow conspiring against Kirk to overthrow him and steal his ship.

Your concern is quite illogical, Spock told him over the mind link, vaguely amused. This tea is not replicated but was made by me in my quarters.

Your coffee would not get cold if you managed to drink it within a sensible amount of time, Spock added, but he was looking at McCoy as he ‘spoke’, watching him with the kind of quiet intensity that always made Kirk’s heart ache in a way that was not entirely unpleasant, yet not entirely enjoyable either.

The Vulcan was trying to figure something out, watching McCoy for all the little signs he would give away without realising it. All his attention was concentrated on this one man, because he had no bond with him to reveal all his feelings.

The doctor flopped down in his chair without answering Kirk’s question. “Really, Jim, we are in need of some serious new rules for landing parties. Your men just run around touching everything they can reach without any caution, and not just with their fingers. ‘Diplomatic mission’ my ass!”

“As I recall it, the ladies there were very diplomatic.” Kirk smirked. He couldn’t really blame his men for wanting to have a little fun, especially if such beautiful women were involved. Of course he hadn’t taken up any of the ladies’ offers himself, being in a proper relationship and all, but, well, he wasn’t blind.

Still, McCoy was right. These men, regardless of the fact that they spend most of their time locked in a tin box in space, should know better than to let themselves get infected with every STD that came with a pretty face.

At the very least they should have the sense not to spread the disease through the entire ship before the routine check up in sickbay.

“Who did you say this started with?” he asked. Bones grunted.

“I didn’t, and I won’t, as you very well know. As long as you don’t give these boys and girls some proper orders to follow, you don’t have any right to know.”

His hair was still slightly damp, underlining how little time he had wasted on the shower this time. At least he looked a little less tired.

Kirk himself felt more exhausted than he had any right to be after a shift during which pretty much nothing happened. It was the boredom that got to him. In times of crisis, the adrenaline kept him going far beyond the point of exhaustion, but during the eventless journeys between one star and the next the hours seemed to pile up and sit on him until his bones were aching with the weight.

Across the table, Spock looked as rested and alive as always. His Vulcan genes allowed him to go without a break for much longer than any human, but in between disasters he didn’t have to. Starfleet regulations were quite strictly against discriminating against alien crew members by letting them work more than the human ones simply because they could.

It was rare for the three of them to be off shift at the same time, and Kirk was determined to make use of the opportunity.

Over the bond, he could feel Spock’s quiet approval.

His Vulcan lover got up without a word to stand behind McCoy, and put the palm of his long fingered hand on the narrow back – all the time watching the doctor with this quiet focus that seemed to make him the centre of his cosmos. The unexpected touch mad McCoy turn his head, startled. As usual, Spock waited until the doctor relaxed under his palm before he brought his other hand to the doctor’s back and started a massage Kirk knew from experience to be very skilled. With a soft groan, Bones let his head fall back.

“You are very tense, Leonard,” Spock said quietly.

“You have no idea,” Bones agreed. With slowly growing arousal, Kirk watched both their faces as Spock’s hands wandered up and down the doctor’s spine, kneaded his shoulders and eventually came to touch the naked skin of his neck. Bones shuddered at the direct physical contact, even though the mental contact it created it was one-sided. Through the bond, Kirk felt the faintest echo of Bones’ feelings – uncoordinated, mingled and contradicting, such a contrast to the well ordered disciplined inside of Spock’s mind. As usual, the second-hand intimacy granted him turned him on, and he felt his desire echoed in Spock.

The contact gave him an idea of Bones’ feelings, but not his thoughts, being restricted to the very surface layer. It was all Kirk’s oldest friend was willing to share with them.

What the captain received from him now was exhaustion, love, vague distress and pleasure caused by the massage Spock was giving him. It wasn’t the kind of pleasure Kirk had been hoping for, however. He was simply enjoying the sensation, slowly relaxing under the touch.

Eventually Spock’s hands wandered lower again, and to Bones’ front where they rubbed his stomach in gentle, relaxing circles before wandering lower still. He bent down to kiss the human’s neck, and Kirk got off his chair, deciding he had watched passively long enough. It was then that Bones suddenly tensed.

“Ah, stop, Spock!” he said, wriggling out of the Vulcan’s grip. “I’m sorry. I just took a shower, and I don’t have time for another.”

“You don’t?” Kirk asked, feeling Spock’s confused disappointment at the reaction as well as his own. (Only in Spock’s case it was confusion and disappointment, well distinguished and each kept in its respective box.) “You’re going somewhere?”

“Yes, Jim. Back to sickbay.”

“Oh?” Now anger got in the mix, but it was Kirk’s alone. From Spock he received merely resignation, as if he had seen this coming. “You agreed not to take any double shifts unless circumstances demand it. In fact, as I recall, I made it an order.”

McCoy scowled, his face a more than sufficient screen for his emotions now Spock no longer served as a link between them. “Circumstances do demand it, Jim.”

“A few cases of VD hardly count as a crisis.”

“First of all, we don’t know yet if it’s really a VD,” his CMO reminded him. “It’s one of the things we need to figure out, because if it spreads any other way, this could quickly become a crisis. Not to mention we need to cure it. Much as I’d love to see you try to fight a battle with half of your crew too busy scratching themselves, it’s a situation I suspect you’d want to avoid.”

“You said you were almost done. Can’t M’Benga and Sanchez handle it on their own? They’re not completely incompetent, you know.”

“Perhaps not, but one doctor needs to be on duty in sickbay, as you will recall, and M’Benga is busy in the lab.”

“Doctor Sanchez…”

“…is infected and isolated from the rest of the crew, along with the other cases. So you can see circumstances do indeed demand my presence.”

“If so, why come here at all?” Kirk asked, full of frustration and neglected arousal.

“To spend my lunch break with you, of course. Regulations say I have to have a break of at least an hour between shifts.”

“I’m touched. You didn’t have any lunch.”

“I had a sandwich in my office, remember?”

“Hah! You did call it lunch! I knew it!”

“No, Jim, I called it a snack. There was no time for lunch. Which should give you an idea of how busy we are.”

“And you keep lecturing me on…”

“Doctor,” Spock interrupted Kirk’s upcoming triad that was about to follow McCoy out into the corridor. “Assuming you came here right after leaving sickbay, there are still twenty-two minutes of your break left.” It was testament to their intimate relationship that he didn’t offer any decimal numbers.

McCoy replied with a sheepish grin. “Yeah, but knowing Jim, twenty-two minutes aren’t enough for what he’s planned for the evening. So I’d better get out while I still can and leave you two to it.” He stepped up to the Vulcan and pressed an almost but not quite chaste kiss to his lips. Then he gave the still steaming Kirk an apologizing half smile. “Don’t wait for me,” he said and left.

“He could at least have said something before we got started,” Kirk growled. Then another thought hit him. “Wait, Sanchez got infected with the VD? Are there only idiots working in our medical department? And please,” he hurried to add, “don’t give me a list of their IQs.”

Beside him Spock sighed, somewhat frustrated himself. “I wasn’t going to.”

 

-

 

Sex with Spock was almost like masturbating – only so much better. As they joined on the sheets, Kirk felt all of his lover’s reactions as well as his own, until he no longer knew or cared which sensation belonged to whom. No words were ever needed. They knew each other perfectly.

Though he had planned something for the three of them, the absence of his other lover at least spared Kirk the vague guilt he always felt when in bed with both of them. No matter how much attention he and Spock gave to Bones, with the link between them connecting them so intimately, he always felt like they were leaving the doctor out somehow. It was a silly idea, Spock had assured him repeatedly in not exactly these words; unable to communicate their love and desire any other way, they took great care of Bones, and Bones left no doubt that he appreciated it. And still, Kirk always felt like he was being denied the lion’s share of their affection.

He was the only one of them who showed any dissatisfaction with the situation, however. In fact, it was Bones who refused to join in any kind of mental bond with them. He had said in no uncertain terms that he loved them and would die for them, and if he managed to avoid just that, he’d gladly spend the rest of his life with them, but his mind belonged to him alone and he would rather die than share it with anyone. Neither did he want to look into the mind of anyone else. To him, a person’s thoughts were the most private thing they possessed, and no one had any right to invade that.

Kirk knew for a fact that the idea of someone knowing him that intimately scared Bones to death. What he did not understand was the reason for this fear. Sure, Bones had had a number of bad experiences with telepaths and mind-controlling aliens, but they all had been malevolent. Spock and Kirk were people he loved and who would never hurt him. They had explained all about the way the bond worked, about how they only shared what they wanted to share, and that neither of them would ever invade any part of his mind he didn’t want them in. Bones had not moved an inch.

In the beginning, Kirk had been reluctant to let Spock create this link between them as well. Not really understanding its significance, he had eventually given in, knowing how much it meant to Spock. There was always the possibility of severing it should it present too much of a problem, he had consoled himself beforehand. Once the bond was established, he had never again entertained any thought of going without it.

Bones was scared, because he didn’t know what it meant. He too, Kirk was sure, would embrace it the same way he did, if only he would find the courage to try. The stubborn refusal still was a cause for occasional frustration in Kirk, and of hurt that their friend apparently trusted them so little.

The bonding allowed them to experience the other’s love directly. Words were so inadequate, Kirk had learned, easy to fake and never completely trusted. He loved Bones, as did Spock, and wanted him to be a part of this, of them, and Bones simply did not want to.

Surprisingly enough, it was Spock who accepted Bones’ decision without question and never tried to chance his mind. As a Vulcan, he had a much better understanding of the damage caused by a forced meld.

“He doesn’t doubt our love for him, nor we his,” he had told Kirk when the human had once again ranted about their lover’s refusal to join with them. “Trust has nothing to do with this. Let it go.”

So Kirk had let it go. Most of the time. With effort.

That was one year ago. As time passed, even the captain had come to accept, and even enjoy, the relationship they all shared the way it was. Sometimes he would catch Bones watching him with an expression on his face that made him realise, without warning, that he was loved. It was different from just knowing it, without doubt and question, always. Not better, but also not necessarily worse. It were moments he treasured.

Sometimes Spock would infuriate him, and Kirk enjoyed ranting about him to someone who didn’t already know everything that was to be said. And sometimes, like this night, he was satisfied in the knowledge that no one, not even Bones, was as close to Spock as he was.

These thoughts always made him feel guilty. But never before morning and not very much.

 

-

 

The night was relaxing, if not particularly restful. Kirk and Spock left for their shift together, but parted ways at the turbo lift, when Spock continued to the bridge, while Kirk paid a visit to sickbay. He wanted to see how the cure was progressing, and to remind his CMO of regulations that allowed the captain to torture him to death should he still be working in one minute. McCoy didn’t believe him. But they had determined how the disease spread (it was a VD, no surprise there, but could be passed on by so much as drinking from the same glass as a carrier), had developed a vaccine and were nearly done with the cure. It couldn’t be more than half an hour now. An hour, at most. Kirk ordered M’Benga to hypo him should he still be around in sixty minutes. He hoped Sanchez would be well rested when he emerged cured from isolation. Before that, M’Benga would have to deal with a double shift as well. Not for the first time, Kirk understood why McCoy so often complained about being understaffed.

Once he arrived on the bridge, it became obvious that this day promised to be about as exciting as the one before. During mapping missions like this, Kirk became aware of how vast space was, and how much of it contained absolutely nothing. For a moment he found himself wishing that the Enterprise would be invaded by one of the countless entities that randomly drifted through the universe and seemed to be drawn to his ship like moths to a flame. Spock, sitting at the science station, let him know without words or even looking at him that this wish was highly illogical. Kirk agreed, pushing the thought aside. Unexpected visitors were rarely friendly, and even if they were not outright evil, they tended to cause the death of at least a couple of his crew before leaving again. He would be a very bad captain if he risked his crew for entertainment.

Or wished someone else would do it for him.

The evening saw a scheduled meeting of the department heads. According to Doctor M’Benga, McCoy had left four hours before and Kirk half expected him to miss the meeting, but the CMO was already sitting in the briefing room when he and Spock arrived.

The meeting wasn’t very long, as there was little to share. McCoy gave a full and somewhat grumpy report on the disease they had just defeated, made a couple of complaints about the staff situation and the Starfleet regulations concerning landing teams to be noted in protocol and basically told the captain how to handle diplomatic missions that involved attractive members of either sex. According to Scotty there were some minor troubles with the engines, but they were nothing to worry about, and another engineer might not even have considered them worth mentioning. But to Scotty, the Enterprise was his baby, and he took notice of every time she sneezed.

Navigations was represented by a young ensign in place of Chekov, who hadn’t been on his shift today. This was the second day he was on sick leave.

And he had been on the landing team on Alnilam Seven…

Well.

You’re jumping to conclusions, Spock scolded while Uhura gave them a report about nothing at all. It is not entirely unlikely that he is down with the cold, which our good doctor still hasn’t managed to cure.

Be realistic, Spock, Kirk sent back. Never mind mathematical probabilities – it’s Chekov!

Spock didn’t deem that worthy of a reply.

 

-

 

The end of the meeting fell together with the end of their shift. While Kirk looked forward to a shower and Spock displayed his usual ‘I could go on forever, but regulations force me to take a break’ attitude, McCoy wanted to call sickbay and see if he was needed yet. This time Kirk put his foot down and refused to let him use the intercom by standing in front of it. If sickbay needed him, he reasoned, sickbay would call. There was no point in creating more stress than was necessary. He, as a doctor, should know that.

McCoy told him that he had no idea what he was talking about because he had never spent a day in an understaffed, overloaded sickbay. Kirk told him that, yes, he had (unconscious and blissfully unaware of the chaos surrounding him) and tackled him to the bed.

Spock watched their half-playful struggle with raised eyebrows. Kirk didn’t have to look at him to know that. At this stage, Spock would either join them, or give them the eyebrows.

It seems to me, Jim, that you are once again in a state of arousal. Quite fascinating.

There’s nothing fascinating about it, Kirk thought back as he managed to pin Bones to the mattress. Boring shifts have that effect on me. And Bones has run from us long enough. He knew that the doctor didn’t avoid them on purpose. All three of them took their work very seriously; right now Bones’ work simply happened to be more demanding than theirs.

As he bent down to capture his lover’s lips with his own, Kirk remembered that he was still somewhat annoyed with him for pulling that little brother of coitus interuptus on them earlier. His kiss turned more forceful, and for once he had no qualms about using his superior strength to keep the upper hand. Bones didn’t seem to mind. After a second, he gave up his resistance and kissed back hungrily. Kirk held his wrists down with one hand and slipped the other into the waistband of his pants, smiling to himself when Bones arched into his touch.

“Fuck, Jim,” he gasped, quickly entering that special state of arousal that came with being overworked and exhausted. Kirk smirked.

“Right, about that…” Abruptly, he sat up and moved away. “I fear that will have to wait until I’m done with my personal hygiene.”

Bones propped himself up on his elbows. “Are you kidding me?” he asked disbelievingly. He managed to look pissed despite the flush on his cheeks. “I know what you are thinking, James Kirk, and I can tell you, no, I do not deserve this.”

“Amazing,” Spock said actually aloud, for this was exactly what Kirk had been thinking.

“Yes, you do.” Kirk pulled off his shirt and let it drop to the floor. “You did the same. Turnabout is fair play.”

“It’s not the same, and you damn well know it! I had a very good reason to leave. The only excuse I would accept for your action would be if Spock had just now let you know he was on flames and needed you to save him.” Bones gestured to a point somewhere behind Kirk. “I can see Spock quite well, Jim. He’s not on flames.”

“But he might need me at some point, so I’d better be ready,” Kirk said smugly, and left for the bathroom.

“If Spock was on fire, he wouldn’t reject your help just because you don’t smell of flowers!”

“On the contrary, Leonard,” Spock said. “My reputation demands that I don’t let just anyone save me.” The rare joke showed better than anything that he was indeed in a Very Good Mood this evening.

“Well, you can come over here and save me!” It was the last thing Kirk heard before the closing door cut out all the noise from the bedroom.

It didn’t, however, shut off his connection to Spock. Kirk could feel them having sex, and had to turn the shower rather cold not to let his own arousal get out of hand. They were cheating him out of his revenge, but since he hadn’t exactly been left all alone either, he decided that it was only fair.

He took his time, letting them have the first round for themselves. It was rare enough that Bones had all of Spock’s attention focused on him during sex. Except that even now, Spock was keeping enough attention on Jim to feed everything they were doing into the link. When he came, combined with the faint echo Jim received from Bones, it was almost too much.

He knew Spock was doing that on purpose. He was in a very good mood indeed.

Stepping out of the shower, Kirk got dry but didn’t bother putting on clothes. When he entered the bedroom, his two lovers were lying entangled on the sheets, Bones running the fingers of one hand through Spock’s soft black hair and Spock letting his fingertips trail up and down Bones’ face and the side of throat. Down to his collarbone and up again, the touch feathery, more promise than actual contact. It looked like poetry.

The fingers of their other hands were intertwined in a way Kirk knew was practically considered pornographic on Vulcan. He wondered if it was Spock’s influence that made him find this sight so erotic. He had never had a hand fetish before.

Eventually Bones pulled Spock down into a lazy kiss that lingered. Feeling no particular urge to join them just yet, Kirk watched them move on the sheets, both of them all long limbs and lean muscles. Spock’s pale skin contrasted with Bones darker tone, and their hair was in a state of disarray. Unable to find words, Kirk let Spock see them the way he did, fed the image right into his mind.

“Jim thinks we’re beautiful,” the Vulcan stated once their kiss broke, speaking with the kind of tender openness that surprised and amazed Jim every time he heard it. It was a voice Spock only ever used with Bones, who now looked past him at Jim, pure love in his eyes. Then his eyes were on Spock’s face and he said, “You are.”

Declarations of love didn’t come easy to Bones, who was so reluctant to reveal anything of himself. This was one, and Jim treasured it, knowing it was for them both.

He sensed how awkward Bones felt making it, that the words seemed silly and inadequate to his own ears. If he’d joined their bond it would be enough just to love, no words necessary, and no embarrassment in saying them. And as long as Spock touched him like this, Bones didn’t need to say them, at least not for them. He did it anyway.

“I do desire you very much,” Spock said, looking down at him. “As does Jim. If you are however tired and would prefer to rest…”

“I want you,” Bones blurted out. “Both of you. So you’d better not finish that sentence.”

It was a primitive way of communicating, and yet there was an intimacy to it that Jim had never noticed before he watched these two speak. Everything had to be said because nothing was known.

He took this as his cue to take up some space on the bed with the others. Since the bed was not meant for two people, much less three, Jim sat at the head of the bed and pulled Bones in his lap. Then he leaned forward to meet Spock’s lips in a deep kiss; their first kiss of the evening.

Bones let his head fall back to lie on his shoulder as Jim began to caress him in a way he needed no mental connection to know he enjoyed. The way Bones was half lying in his lap, Jim’s own arousal couldn’t possibly escape him.

“God, Jim,” the doctor sighed. “Consider my age and my working hours.” He shuddered when Spock took advantage of his vulnerable position and licked his throat. “Just don’t expect too much of me tonight, okay?”

“Don’t worry,” Jim whispered in his ear, before gently biting his earlobe. “We’ve got all night.”

 

-

 

Kirk was the first to wake up. It was unusual. Since Spock required much less sleep than a human, he often slipped out of bed as soon as his partners had drifted off, to meditate or read or watch them sleep. Sometimes, he watched Kirk’s dreams, but they always left him confused. He failed to understand that there was nothing to be understood, most of the time.

Today he was curled up on his side, his back to Kirk, who was stuck between him and the wall. The not very comfortable wall. Also, his arm had fallen asleep.

Miraculously, Spock didn’t wake up when Kirk carefully wriggled into a position that allowed him to knead some life back into his numb limp. Checking the time, Kirk knew that the Vulcan would wake up in exactly nine minutes – exactly one minute before the alarm went off. Kirk suspected he did it to spite technology. No matter how much he liked computers, a part of him still lived in a cave in the desert.

The captain’s bed was not much bigger than that of any other crewmember, and at present Bones ran a high risk of falling to the floor, should he move even the fraction of an inch. Fortunately, he didn’t seem inclined to move anytime soon. In fact, he looked like he would happily sleep through the alarm.

Unwilling to take any chances, Kirk turned it off. He was awake already, and Spock didn’t need it anyway. He didn’t know when Bones’ next shift started, but wasn’t going to wake him if it wasn’t necessary. Kirk knew that the doctor had done at least eight shifts in the last five days – this night he had pretty much fallen asleep with Jim buried deep inside him, something the captain blamed on lack of sleep rather than any lack of skill on his part. Kirk didn’t need Spock’s reassurances in this regard – though he didn’t mind getting them either.

Jim himself had been too wired to sleep yet, and Spock hadn’t complained. They had been careful, though, had even considered moving to Spock’s bed next door, but the high temperature in the Vulcan’s quarters made sure that Kirk always woke up sweaty and sporting a headache, and Bones was so out of it that nothing they did could possibly wake him.

All together, this had been another short night. One of these days, Kirk needed some proper rest, if possible before his CMO felt the need to point it out to him.

The less there was to do, the less sleep he got. It had always been this way, but since he was living with Spock and Bones it had gotten worse. Boredom made him horny, and living out his pend up energy in his free time was the only thing that kept him from losing himself in pornographic fantasies while sitting in the centre seat. And then he might send them to Spock, or engage in some real and proper mind sex. Or to go down to sickbay and bend his CMO over his desk. And share it with Spock, naturally.

Each of these options would get him a number of odd looks, at the very last. It was still tempting to try, one day, just to see how Spock would keep his dispassionate façade through something like that.

He was lucky to have the nights, at least. Kirk’s libido was the stuff of legends, but Spock’s Vulcan stamina and short recovery time enabled him to outlast a human – any human. By the time they were done, Kirk had no problem whatsoever falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Of the three of them, Bones was the most passive, the least likely to initiate intimate contact. He often hesitated to join them unless specifically invited, even after one year of being together.

At first Kirk hadn’t thought anything of that – not everyone had his sex drive, and McCoy’s private life had always been quiet. But every so often Bones would look at them as if he was unsure what he was doing here. He always held back, seemed reluctant to get too deeply involved, and all that had eventually led Kirk to doubt his oldest friend’s devotion. At any moment he seemed ready to leave.

It had been a while before Kirk had realised that Bones didn’t wish to leave them but waited for them to leave him. He didn’t understand why they wanted him and so constantly expected them to realise they didn’t. Kirk was all Spock could ever need and want, and Spock was the same for Kirk. A part of Bones, unacknowledged but undying, thought that he didn’t quite belong in this picture. Though something told Kirk that his doubts would have existed even if he had been with just one of them, instead of both.

It was another reason for Kirk to wish he would just give in and let Spock establish a permanent bond between them.

Unwilling to follow that unloved train of thought, he propped himself up on the arm that was still giving him pins and needles while the circulation returned and looked down at his two lovers. Spock had his arm wrapped possessively around Bones’ middle – or perhaps just protectively. Probably only the fact that he knew Spock’s mind enabled Kirk to see this with affection instead of jealousy.

For another minute Kirk contemplated whether his urge to use the bathroom was strong enough to risk waking Spock or not. Eventually he decided that if waited for Spock to wake on his own, the Vulcan would be first to the shower. And Kirk very much wanted a shower right now.

He managed to get out waking without anyone and with three minutes to go before the alarm was scheduled to go off. When he felt Spock wake up two minutes later, he was already enjoying his shower.

Perhaps he should use the sonic shower every now and then. With the amount of water they were using up these days, someone was bound to wonder what they were doing in their free time.

But then, the one most likely to pay attention to something like that was Scotty, and Kirk suspected he’d noticed anyway. Then again, he wasn’t certain Scotty noticed anything at all if it didn’t have an engine.

In any case, the thought stopped him from lingering too long under the stream of hot water. He took his time with everything else, though, until he felt Spock’s impatience. When Captain James Tiberius Kirk emerged from the bathroom three hundred twenty-seven days before the official end of their five year mission and two hundred seventy-eight days before the mission that would mark the beginning of the end for the three of them, he was clean, proper and quite possibly smelling of flowers.

Spock frowned at him because he had needed so long. No good morning kiss for him.

They would have breakfast in the canteen together. While he waited for his first officer to finish his morning hygiene, Kirk had his first of many cups of coffee and watched Bones, who had curled up in the warm spot Spock had left and didn’t show any inclination of waking up.

Steaming cup in his hand, Kirk got up and called sickbay. Nurse Chapel answered his call.

“Did Dr. McCoy by any chance agree on the second shift today?” he asked.

“He did,” Chapel answered. “He should be here in about half an hour.”

“Is Dr. Sanchez cleared for duty yet?”

“Yes.” There was a second of silence on the other end. “It would be no problem to switch their shifts.”

Kirk smiled. “That’s great. Have it that way.” He cut off the call, turned around and found himself looking at Spock.

“I do not believe Leonard will appreciate this.”

“He’ll live. And it’s in the best interest of the crew to have a well rested CMO at least once a month.” Kirk smirked. “What bothers me much more is the question whether I should leave him a note, or have him run to sickbay in a panic later, thinking he overslept.”

Spock’s left eyebrow wandered up to visit his hairline. “In that case, I believe the doctor will, as the proverb goes, have your balls for breakfast.”

Kirk thought about that. And grinned. “You know, Spock, I think I’ll take that risk.”

They left, and Spock transmitted his disapproval all the way to the canteen.

But he hadn’t left a note either.

 

August 25, 2009


End file.
